Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2) (25 page)

Two hours later, the party is in full swing. Our living room has been transformed into a porn shop. Dildos, vibrators, lubes, and tawdry films are displayed everywhere. The saleswoman, Marni, set up shop in our bedroom to take discreet orders when the presentation has ended.

As the crowd starts to settle in the seats I’ve put out, everyone with a little plate of the hors d'oeuvres I had the caterer bring, Marni starts to prepare her presentation.

“Okay, ladies, how are we all doing tonight?”

The ladies in the room give hoots and hollers. Marni is fun. I met her through one of the girlfriends of Owen’s colleagues and have been excited about tonight for weeks.

“Well, we’re here tonight to have some fun and go home with some goodies! I’m going to go through some of the samples I brought with me, and later, we will convene one by one in Olivia’s bedroom to do the sales portion of the night.”

“I hope she changed the sheets!” one of the women from the firehouse chimes in to the delight of the other women. The girlfriends of the other guys in the firehouse have really become my friends since the beach party. I’ve enjoyed getting to know them, often meeting them for coffee or lunch.

Marni takes some lingerie sets and sends them around the room so the girls can get a feel of the material, the cut, and the sizes. She talks about having some of them ready to sell tonight, and many of the ladies crack jokes about giving their husbands or boyfriends a heart attack when they come home with a gift they can use tonight. As if on cue, Marni brings out some vibrators and lets us know that she has a couple of those too for immediate sale. Part of me is tempted to buy something I can use tonight, but I’m good with waiting and letting the other women benefit from what Marni has brought with her.

As the night wears on, I enjoy spending time with my girlfriends and meeting the friends they brought along. Some of the girls feel a little self-conscious about what’s being sold tonight, but overall, everyone is having a great time.

Marni announces that it’s time for her to head off to our bedroom and start the purchasing proceedings. The women line up to meet with her, and I’m delighted that most everyone is buying something. The more people buy, the more money I make to use on myself. Although, truth be told, I have only found a handful of things I think are worth purchasing. When you have such an abundant and varied sex life, it’s hard to feel like you need to add to that.

It’s finally my turn, so I make my way in to meet with Marni. She thanks me for the party and gives me a general idea of what I’m looking at in gift credit. I flip through the catalog and pick out a small but powerful vibrator, a bottle of lube that tastes like Pina colada, and a cute, little baby-doll lingerie set I know Owen will like. We really don’t need the vibrator, but it’s free and I’m always up for new things.

The women are huddled in groups around the apartment. Some have moved out to the deck, all of them enjoying the fantastic food from the caterer and the array of wine being served. There are far more women than I expected, but that’s okay. We all fit comfortably and everyone is having a good time.

I’m setting up the sexy cupcakes I ordered in the kitchen when I overhear a conversation behind me. Three women, two I don't recognize and one I know from work, are talking about bachelorette parties. Apparently, one of the three is engaged.

"I want to do a Jack and Jill like Terri did. It was so much fun! And when everyone gets a little drunk, funny things can happen when the guys are around."

"Funny things like what?!" her friend asks excitedly.

"Well, for starters, this one girl brought some guy she just started dating, and he did a strip tease for the girls. It was fantastic. He was hotter than hell. They broke up like literally two days later, but I was glad she brought him!"

They laugh out loud.

"What? Are you kidding? What about the other guys at the party?" I ask, butting in rudely but very curious to know.

The girl turns and smiles at me, gesturing for me to come join the conversation. "One other guy joined in, but all eyes were on Owen!" she squeals.

My stomach drops.
Oh Jesus.

"I even have a video on my phone. It's from ages ago, years even, but it was so damn good I kept the video." She continues to offer details of the night, including what the mystery dancer looks like, all to the delight of the other two women. I have a sinking feeling that I know who "Owen" is.

She pulls out her phone, and after a minute of scrolling, she announces, "Ah! Here it is!" Then she starts the video, which is a little grainy and jerky, and shows it to the three of us assembled around her.

While the other ladies probably wouldn't notice it, I know immediately that it's my boyfriend
. Son of a bitch.
I start laughing uncontrollably. He looks like an idiot. He can dance, but clearly not as a stripper. He was probably loaded. Oddly, I feel slightly bad for the girl who brought him to the party. She is standing proudly to the side, watching this Adonis dance for her friends, probably thinking they had a chance. I already know he broke up with her two days later, definitely part of the old ‘Owen the playboy’ routine. To say that they were ‘dating’ was a stretch.

"That looks like it was very interesting," I say, laughing, and turn my attention back to my penis and boobie cupcakes, plotting an evening of poking fun at my sexy man. Maybe I’ll get a dance out of it?

By eleven p.m., all the ladies have left, and with the exception of the couch I can't move, our apartment is a relative semblance of its normal state. I have put away the leftovers and wrapped a couple of boobie cupcakes for Owen. He’ll appreciate it. Afterward, I move into our bedroom to slip out of my clothes, put my hair in a ponytail, and get into my night shorts and tank top. I am exhausted. I climb onto the bed and turn on the TV, waiting for Owen to come home.

Around eleven thirty, I hear the door open and shut, and the sounds of Owen's familiar movements—his keys hitting the dish on the credenza by the door, his shoes falling to the floor, and his shuffling steps across the hardwood to our bedroom. He stops at the door to our room, a grin on his face.

"You would never know a bunch of sex-crazed women were here tonight! How was the party?" He moves into our room and starts to take off his clothes, making a show of throwing them basketball-dunk-style into the hamper.
Boys.

"It was a ton of fun actually. Everyone had a great time and I got a lot of free things at the end because so many people bought stuff," I say with a winning grin. I was rather pleased with myself and ended up, with Marni’s prodding, with more than my vibrator, lube, and lingerie set.

"Oh?" he says, raising an eyebrow as he slides into bed next to me. "What did you get?" he asks, nuzzling into my neck.

I giggle. "Nothing we need, but lots of stuff to play with."

I can feel him smiling against my neck as he plants kisses there, his arm reaching out and pulling me into him, his fingers lazily drawing circles on the bare skin between my tank and the elastic of my shorts.

"I saved you some boobie cupcakes," I say as he continues to nuzzle me.

"You did, huh? Well, I prefer these boobies." He chuckles and lightly squeezes my breasts.

"Owen, are you trying to start something with me again?" I ask seductively.

"Mmhmmm..." he hums against my skin. "I can't get enough of you today." His voice sends shivers down my body, and I'm ready and willing to give into him, but first...

"Can I ask you to do me a favor before we do anything?"

He halts his movements and pulls back to look in my eyes, confusion showing on his face. “We can move the couch tomorrow, Liv. Come on... Play with me,” he mumbles into my neck.

“That’s not what I was going to ask you, baby.” I smile, knowing he’s going to freak when I ask the real question on my mind.

"Okay..." he replies apprehensively.

I grin widely. "Strip for me."

His face falls and his look of unease increases tenfold. "What?"

"You heard me. Strip for me."

"Olivia, I'm not sure me stripping for you would be half as enjoyable as you stripping for me." He smiles. “In fact, that sounds like a great idea.
You
strip for
me
.”

I make a dramatically exaggerated pouty face. "You did it for some girl at a Jack and Jill party. How come I can't get a strip?"

His hands still, his face unreadable, although, if I had to venture I guess, I would call it…horror?

"Oh don't look so petrified, Owen. Some girl tonight was talking about bachelorette parties and showed me a little video of my very drunk man making a sad attempt at stripping."

He still looks terrified, so I push him on his back and straddle him, smiling as I lean down and kiss his chest.

"I was just hating that I haven't gotten a taste of Magic Owen."

"Uh...I did what?" he asks, sounding genuinely bemused.

"You stripped...while drunk...for a roomful of men and women you didn't know," I spell out, stifling a laugh.

His hands slide from my ass, up my back, and to my shoulders, slowly pushing me back so he can see my face. "I so don't remember that." He shakes his head. "But even if I did, you're not mad?" he asks, looking hopeful.

I smile at him. "No, baby. I'm not mad. I'm horny and feeling very, very lucky that I live with a sexy stripper I can have to myself any time I like."

He looks relieved. "Wow. You're really coming around, aren't you?" he says with a wide grin.

I smile impishly and cock my head at him.

He pulls my tank by the hem and drags it off my body, throwing it to the side. Then he flips me onto my back and pulls my shorts off in one swift move, disposing of them as well. As he stands over me on the bed, he does a shimmy of his hips and starts to move his boxers down his legs like a stripper would, eventually dangling them over my face and tossing them over his shoulder. He is being so adorably playful and hilarious, that I start to clap and hoot and holler at him. Suddenly, he drops to his knees, making me bounce on the bed and squeal in delight. Then he turns serious, laying himself over me, leaning on his elbows as he dips down to give me a kiss. When he pulls away he tucks my hair behind my ears, out of my eyes.

"I love you. You know that, Olivia?"

I smile warmly at him. "I do, baby. I really do."

And with that, he leans in and makes love to me, proving that Magic Owen has some damn sexy moves.

OLIVIA AND I HAVE been waiting a long time for today to come around. Olivia’s best friend, Charley, and one of my best friends, Marc, were introduced to each other when Olivia and I met up in Seattle a number of months ago. They started dating recently, and now, for their first trip as an official couple, they’re coming to New York to visit and staying with us for a few days. They arrived earlier today, and tonight, we have plans to live it up. We’re going out for a nice dinner and then to a club in Brooklyn. Olivia and I haven’t been out dancing in a long time, and I know Olivia is itching to get out on the dance floor.

While we wait for Olivia to finish getting ready, Charley, Marc, and I are laughing and swapping stories in our living room over drinks. Mid conversation, Marc lets out a whistle. I turn my head to see Olivia strutting down the hall from our bedroom and nearly choke on my scotch as I get a good look at her. She’s wearing a very short, very tight, black dress, and she exudes confidence. Olivia knows she looks phenomenal. But if I’m being honest, I’m not so sure I want other people getting such a great view of my girlfriend. My slacks grow tight around my hips as she flips her long, curled hair back over her shoulder and fidgets with her clutch.

I throw back the last of my scotch and place the glass on the side table as I stand to my feet. “Excuse me one moment,” I say to our guests as I walk towards Olivia. She’s about to put on some lipstick in the mirror above the hallway credenza, but I stop her. “You’ll want to wait with that, doll. May I have a word with you? Alone?” I say with no anger or malice, just pure, heated need.

My demeanor catches Olivia off guard as I guide her back to our bedroom. She looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide with uncertainty.